One Poem by Bill Kurz






The Gothic Revival


   sky cycled light, dark
a bright tide of watercolor filled and

             emptied itself

across the horizon black ink spilled and
          dilute amber and gold
winters dried and heaved the air

     potent silence expanded forever



   the sunken green roof of childhood preserved half its luster
I exited the car and shut the door, my eyes studying its texture

   my son kicked a rock on the curb, the way he looked up at me
reminded me of my younger brother, the same tilted wince
"You lived here?" he asked aghast, but knowing the answer

I breathed slowly and stared into the sullied windows
searching for any spare sign my life has not run out



        the truth
is far worse
         than anything

we could imagine

          the sublime
is a heartless
         cold death

appearances are reality



unseen seeds lay dormant waiting to meld with the earth
  a gravid world of activity swollen with blind desire
sedges, rushes, wildflowers shake serenely, or hold still
rays cut the leaves and branches, moss spreads beneath
roots reach deep, coiling, vining, twisting, interlacing below
  water in                                                          sap out
and the sky spread scattered sunlight since the beginning of time

     while I
                    am trapped
                                            in this body

Bill Kurz is a local writer living in Maryland. He writes at the crucible of North American and South American fiction. You can find more of his work in Sound and Fury, Remington Review, and PLOS One.

Image: Mudna House – abandoned house in Brisbane by darkday under the Creative Commons Attribution 2.0 Generic license via Wikimedia Commons.

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